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  When she got out, the heat surprised her. Mid-seventies in the afternoon. Already, she missed the rain and cold of the Pacific Northwest.

  In her hotel room, she changed into a blue jumper and sandals and pulled her hair back. She felt cooler just getting the hair off her neck.

  At the front of the hotel, she waved down another cab to take her to the hospital. The cab dropped her off, and seeing the white, imposing building, Lucy almost told the cab to take her back to the hotel. Instead, she got out, squared her shoulders, and stepped inside the hospital she’d once worked at, the same place where she had met Jason.

  For some reason, having Bryce in her life had Lucy feeling as though she could conquer the world. Well, at least her insecurities, anyway. One piece of you at a time, Badeaux.

  As she walked down the hospital’s corridors, she avoided the curious stares directed at her. Did her ex-coworkers know about Bella’s pregnancy or the engagement?

  She stopped at the double doors to the intensive care unit. The sign on the wall said, Stop. All visitors must get clearance. Underneath the sign, an arrow pointed to a phone.

  Lucy lifted the receiver. “I’m here to see Ines Badeaux.”

  The double doors swung open. She walked in. The head nurse, Charlotte, came and gave her a hug. Lucy tensed.

  Charlotte and she had never been close. In elementary school, they hung out. By high school, Charlotte preferred the popular crowd and avoided Lucy like she had some contagious disease.

  Charlotte let go. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.”

  While Charlotte paged the doctor, Lucy headed into her grandmother’s room. On her way to the hospital, she’d mentally prepared herself. What she saw had her fighting back tears. Her strong grandmother looked so frail.

  Above her grandmother’s head, the heart monitor beeped. The rhythm was a fast one. Eventually, her grandmother’s heart wouldn’t be able to handle the pace. The blood pressure cuff inflated on her grandmother’s tiny arm. The resultant numbers were too low. At her grandmother’s side, the ventilator machine made swooshing noises as it breathed for her.

  Lucy sat on the chair next to the bed and brought Grandma’s cold palm to her face. As though her warmth could heal her grandmother, she rubbed her cheek into the lines etched into Grandma’s smooth skin. Her chest constricted.

  Don’t cry. Lucy never let anyone see her cry, not after her father’s death, not after what had happened with Eric and definitely not with Jason and Bella’s betrayal.

  The doctor walked in, and grabbing a chair, he set it next to her. The news wasn’t good.

  “Your grandmother’s progressing toward organ failure. Already, her kidneys are shutting down,” Dr. McKenzie said. “With your permission, we can take her off life support, transition her to comfort care, and give her medication to ease any pain she might have.”

  Lucy understood the prognosis, but it wasn’t just her decision to make. “I’m my grandmother’s power of attorney, but my mother—her daughter-in-law—should have a say, too. Let me call her.”

  Dr. McKenzie nodded. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”

  Lucy acknowledged the condolence and made her way to the waiting room. She called her mother. Voicemail picked up the call. Lucy left a message for her mother, explaining what was happening to Grandma and to call Lucy as soon as possible.

  Back in the room, she held her grandmother’s hand. Her mother hadn’t called. Lucy had expected that.

  Since her father’s death, Lucy’s mother and grandmother had been estranged. Grandma Badeaux had never approved of the marriage of her only son to a gold digger, as Grandma Badeaux had tactfully called her mother, along with many other names. Usually, she’d spoken French. Lucy had clearly understood based on Grandma’s venomous tone alone.

  For the rest of the day and into the evening, Lucy stayed by her grandmother’s side. She shouldn’t let Grandma suffer. However, she wasn’t quite willing to let go. Her grandmother was the closest thing she had to a real family.

  By morning, her mother hadn’t called. Lucy checked her cell phone. There were no voice messages or text messages. Numbed by her mother’s open rejection of Grandma at Grandma’s final hours, Lucy got up and walked over to the nurses’ station.

  “Can you page my grandma’s doctor for me?”

  At Lucy’s request, they transitioned her grandmother to comfort care. The breathing tube came out. They shut off the heart monitor. The IV line stayed in Grandma’s arm for pain medication. Her grandmother hadn’t winced. She seemed at peace.

  An hour later, they called time of death.

  Chapter Nine

  Four days. She was gone for four days, and Bryce had missed her. Lucy had come home Monday at one in the morning.

  He had offered to pick her up at the airport. She’d turned him down, saying she needed her space. Maybe in a couple of days they could see each other again, that was what she’d asked for.

  Under the glow from the streetlight, she lifted her face to the night sky. Her shoulders shook. Bryce held back the urge to run down the stairs, crash open the door, and pull her into his arms.

  Though he didn’t like the idea of Lucy grieving alone, he did as she’d quietly requested. With a heavy ache in his chest, he closed the blinds and went back to bed.

  The next day, he didn’t see her. Wednesday and Thursday were the same. Friday night she went to work. He hung out at the Grill. Carmen tried to get in his pants again. He flat out refused her. Eric made small talk and asked about Lucy.

  “Yeah, I’m seeing her,” he admitted without hesitation. His answer had nothing to do with his and Lucy’s experiment.

  Something wasn’t right between Lucy and Eric. Based off what Lucy had told him, he started to contact the references on Eric’s resume. So far, he’d had luck with one out of five. That guy had given Eric a glowing recommendation, too favorable for Bryce’s taste, almost to the point of seeming fake. The other references had disconnected phone numbers. Convenient.

  Suspicious, he’d asked Dan’s father, an accountant, to pour over his expense and income report. If there was anything off in those reports, he’d hear from Dan’s father soon. Right now, no news was good news.

  Eric offered him a drink. He shook his head. Since Lucy had decided to stick around in his life, he had tapered the amount of alcohol he drank.

  He’d ease his way off his vice of choice. No way would he put himself into a full blown detox. Bryce chugged the remainder of his glass of water, said, “goodnight” to his workers, and left the Grill, sober and upright.

  What he’d said to Lucy was becoming a self-prophecy. Through their friendship, he was becoming a better man. He laughed out loud and the sound carried. Damn right. That was exactly what she was doing to his life, making it better.

  Now if only he’d grow some balls and tell his father his business was a success. He didn’t need to return to the racing circuit to prove his worth.

  * * *

  Sunday morning, the alarm buzzed. Bryce jumped out of bed, yanked on a shirt and jeans, and raced to his truck. In a half-hour, he’d see Lucy. He pumped his fist in the air. Yeah.

  At the hospital, he parked and waited in the lot designated for the workers. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and eyed the back door where Lucy would come out.

  It was too quiet. Flipping through the preprogrammed radio stations, he settled on a country twang.

  The back door opened. Lucy walked out wearing a white Northface jacket over her scrubs and a white beanie on her head. With the sun rising, and the beams on her, she was downright sexy, hard to miss.

  As she shielded her eyes from the sunlight, Bryce waved from where he’d parked facing the door. When she saw him, she blinked then smiled. Those deep grooves in her cheeks . . . he shook his head. He’d never get tired of her smiles. She sauntered toward him.

  The closer she came, the more he noticed she was somehow different. Yet he couldn’t put his finger on what “different” was. He rolle
d the window down. Balanced on the toes of her shoes, she set her gloved hands inside the open window of his truck.

  “Bryce, what are you doing here?”

  “I came to get you. A week and a half is long enough, Miss Badeaux.” He nodded toward the passenger seat.

  She walked around the truck, opened the door, and got in. He turned the ignition and cranked the heat on high.

  “You didn’t need to pick me up.” She took off her gloves and the beanie and put her small hands to the vents. Black strands of her hair stood out against her white jacket.

  Ignoring her, he grasped her hand in his and kissed her fingertips. One. At. A. Time. “Did you miss me?”

  “That’s not a fair question.”

  “Why not?” Shifting in reverse, he backed out of the parking lot then put the truck in drive.

  “You already know the truth.” She intertwined her fingers in his and glanced out the window. “Thank you for the ride.”

  Though she put on a strong front, Lucy didn’t fool him. He understood grief.

  Grief came in many forms. He’d given up his childhood for racing. Some days, Bryce wondered what it would have been like to grow up normal. Though he’d never admit the truth out loud, he missed his mom. Clear nights and bright stars reminded him of her. She’d taught him the constellations.

  “I’m a good listener,” he offered, giving Lucy a sidelong glance.

  She shook her head.

  It began to rain. Fat drops pounded his windshield and obscured his view of the road. He turned on the windshield wipers. Her sadness gnawed at him. She needed a good cry like no one’s business.

  At their places, he parked. Not giving her a chance to get out first, he rushed from the truck and opened the passenger door. Rain pounded his body and drenched him. Bryce blinked against the drops in his eyes. He extended his hand to her. She glanced from his face to his front door. Beneath the stoop, they’d be protected from the rain.

  Bryce gave her a slow, firm shake of his head. “Dance with me, Lucy.”

  She clamped her hand over her mouth. Hope had Bryce stepping toward her.

  “Come on, darling. With the rain, I won’t know if you’re crying or not.”

  A gasp tore from her, and she rushed into his arms. He held her tight and clasped her head to his chest. Her shoulders shook. She glanced up at him. Bryce couldn’t discern her tears from the rain that soaked them through and through.

  “I—” She gripped the edges of his jacket. “I . . . Ce que vous faites pour moi. Merci.”

  Bryce didn’t have to understand what she’d said to know Lucy was just as affected as he was by the moment.

  “What you do for me.” She trailed her fingers down the sides of his face. “Thank you.” Her gaze lingered on his mouth. “Kiss me, Bryce.”

  He skimmed his knuckles over her lips. Rain clung to their fullness. She closed her eyes. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers. Soft. Slanting her head, she opened for him. Warm. Sexy. Strong in her own quiet way. She deepened the kiss. He groaned and pulled her closer to him. No doubt about it. There was no stopping the inevitable. Bryce was falling for Lucy.

  Chapter Ten

  “How’s your dad?” Lucy asked.

  “Don’t know.”

  She and Bryce were in the coffee shop. She stopped mid-sip of her coffee and set the mug down. “Hasn’t he been home for a week now?”

  Bryce avoided her eyes. Since they’d danced in the rain together a week ago, they’d spent all their free hours together. In the mornings, they’d go running. Afterward, he’d check in at the Grill.

  Tension crackled in the air whenever Bryce was near Eric. Lucy had an idea it had something to do with her.

  Had Bryce followed up on her warning, the one about the last company Eric had worked for going bankrupt? Or had Eric told Bryce that he’d slept with Lucy? Had Eric spun a good story that she was all for them having sex when she’d actually been disgusted at the thought of his slimy hands on her? Whatever it was, Bryce kept his dealings with Eric professional.

  “Just because he’s home doesn’t mean I gotta go see him.”

  Bryce’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “It must’ve been hard for your father to see you get injured when you . . . when you competed.” She ran her finger over the rim of her mug.

  Bryce shrugged. “He gets used to it.” He snagged a bite of his breakfast sandwich and downed his coffee. “Motocross and Supercross are called extreme sports for a reason.”

  “I didn’t realize you did both, indoor and outdoor tracks.”

  “A majority of us riders do.”

  “Will you let me watch you ride?” She reached out and caressed the top of his hand. “Or teach me?”

  They’d talked racing. Lately, he asked for her opinion about the restaurant. Ways it could be better. Maybe, he’d infuse the menu with a French flair. Crepes, perhaps?

  She had laughed at his ideas before she’d kissed him breathless. “Why not?” she’d said after ending their kiss. Sure, the menu mattered. However, in Lucy’s opinion, people ate at the Grill for a different reason—the charming, all-American guy sitting in front of her. He made the rounds every night with the endless energy of a guy who liked being around people. Customers loved him.

  He glanced over her shoulders with a distant look in his eyes. She let out an exasperated sigh. Something bothered him. She reclined in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and blew at a stray strand of hair falling in her eye.

  “Why are you moping? Does this have to do with the…” She flushed. “With our experiment?”

  It didn’t. Lucy had an idea Bryce’s less than enthusiastic mood had to do with his father. Surely, she could distract him with a topic he couldn’t ignore.

  He opened his mouth, closed it, then laughed. A crooked smile spanned his face. A twinkle gleamed in his eyes.

  “I dare you to say exactly what I propositioned.” He leaned in and locked gazes with her. “I dare you to tell me exactly what this experiment is. Be very clear what the intention is, Lucy.”

  Lucy tipped forward until they were almost nose to nose. No backing down and live life to the fullest. That had been her mantra since her grandmother’s death. “You want us to have S.E.X.”

  Her heart thudded. His pupils dilated. Her attention dipped to his mouth before her eyes shot back to his.

  “Exactly.” He sat back with a satisfied grin on his face.

  She extender her hand to him. “We’re on.”

  He nearly fell out of his chair. She ducked her head and hid her smile.

  “Should we get started?”

  “Now?!”

  “No time like the present,” she said. “Your place or mine?”

  * * *

  On the drive back to their places, Bryce turned on the radio, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, and belted out the lyrics to a country song. Anything to keep his thoughts off the woman sitting next to him and the erection that made it uncomfortable to sit.

  He still couldn’t believe they’d finally be going all the way. Three weeks. Dammit, they moved too fast.

  Yet Bryce had never been one to be satisfied with a slower pace. He’d lived life too hard and too fast for too long. But . . . he gave her a quick sidelong glance. The corner of her mouth tilted upward.

  As though she sensed he might change his mind, Lucy slipped her small hand into his and squeezed. Reassurance. He brought their clasped hands to his mouth. There was no going back now. For either of them.

  He pulled into his driveway and parked. They both got out of his truck and headed to her place. At the door, she stuck the key in the lock. Her fingers shook. His chest ached. She wasn’t ready, and he was a bastard for teasing her to the point she’d accepted.

  Since returning from Palm Springs, Lucy was different. When they were out together, she talked more. Hell, at the movies two nights ago, they’d run into Bryce’s friends and Lucy had shot the breeze with the guys as though they were her friends
. Yeah, something other than her grandmother’s death had affected Lucy.

  Had she seen her cheating ex? Had that shithead said or done something to her to make her want to jump into bed with a guy just so she could feel something, anything?

  Inside her place, she set her keys and cell phone on a little table by her door. He followed her up the stairs. On the way to her bedroom, they passed by a room. Bryce halted to a stop.

  Before she realized he wasn’t following behind her, he snuck into her studio. What he saw had him slackening his jaw before he shut his mouth.

  On the wall were drawings of him taking sharp turns on the race track or sticking his hands high in the air as though celebrating big. He wasn’t necessarily celebrating. After riding lap after lap going full throttle with his hands tight on the handlebars, his arms had needed a good shaking out. What better way than while air borne?

  Shutting his mind to his past life, he stepped toward one particular drawing that had snagged his attention. His throat tightened.

  In the picture, he sat with his back to a tree. With her head on his lap, Lucy glanced up at a cloudless, blue sky with her eyes closed and a smile on her face. He reached out to touch the drawing. Could he capture her happiness and contentment in his grasp, never to let go again? He clenched his hand and let his arm fall to his side.

  “Do you like them?” From behind, Lucy wrapped her small yet strong arms around his waist and rubbed her nose over the spot between his shoulders.

  What she’d done was surreal, intimate, and damn it, he wanted her in a bad way.

  “I dig all of them.” He turned around and slipping his finger under her chin, he tilted her face to him. “And I dig you.”

  She took his hand in hers, and without another word, led him to her bedroom. She’d opened the curtains to her window. They’d be doing it in the full light of day. Clearing his throat, Bryce stuck his hands in his pants pockets.

  “I can close the curtains if you’re uncomfortable,” she said.

  “No need.”

  She walked over, grabbed him by the belt loops, and once she smiled, his confidence returned. “I thought I’d be the nervous one,” she said.